


keep you at home in my arms

by your_bespoke_psychopath



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, I am afraid it may be terribly mushy in some parts?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bespoke_psychopath/pseuds/your_bespoke_psychopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has always thought that the Singing Towers would be the last time he meets her. The last stop on their amazing journey. The last chapter of his story with her.<br/>Turns out he was wrong. The universe has different plans for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep you at home in my arms

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it maybe 2 weeks ago, but I decided that I do not like it and left it to rot on my hard drive. but then I felt like it was staring at me and judging me. poking its little fingers at me and laughing quietly. so after editing the hell out of it, I am posting it, just to get it out of my head and wash my hands clean. 
> 
> story title - as well as all the subtitles - come from 'morning in may' by ludo. it's a part of a rock opera concept album of theirs, titled 'broken bride'. I highly recommend it, because you'll find that it'll give you a lot of feels. trust me.  
> thanks to Eris for looking it over, saying she hates me and feels the urge to hit me with a pillow.

**I**. _the photographs that seemed so far away_

The universe is big and vast, always shifting and changing, expanding beyond the realms of imagination. It’s full of dark beauty, it’s impossible and unpredictable.

The universe is full mysteries that will never be solved, that will tempt with their secrets until the end of time.

Sometimes, a miracle happens. A miracle that fills one’s heart with hope and strength to go on, to believe.

The universe is full of wonders.

The universe is cruel.

He has always thought that the Singing Towers would be the last time he meets her. The last stop on their amazing journey. The last chapter of his story with her.

Turns out he was wrong. The universe has different plans for him.

After Darillium he still meets her.

 

**II** _. I step outside and you're waving goodbye_

He took her to see The Singing Towers. He couldn’t run away from it any longer.

(Oh, how he tried.)

And just like she’d told him – another him, in another time, with different hearts – he showed up on her doorstep, with a new haircut and a new suit. He told her to wear something nice – she chose his favourite dress – and did not tell her where they’re going until he entered the coordinates.

The Towers sang.

She was overjoyed.

He cried.

She asked him why, but he shook his head and put his arms tighter around her, never wanting to let her go.

(But he knew he’ll never be able to hold her close enough. She was already gone.)

 

**III**. _they tried to console me_

He doesn’t mourn her.

No, that’s not true. He has always been mourning her. Since the day she sacrificed herself in the Library, he hasn’t stopped doing that. During every moment they spent together there was always this shade, this sharp thorn in his happiness, the thought he couldn’t ignore, the bitter taste in his throat: he has already lost her.

He has lost her to darkness and deep, unforgiving shadows.

He is never going to get her back.

 

**IV**. _you're all the consolation I ever needed_

He remembers her advice and doesn’t travel alone. His new companion is young, bubbly and innocent, and she’s a bit in awe of him. But aren’t they all?

(She wasn’t.)

One day he wants to take Ysterie – an asteroid of rainbow crystals. He’s sure he entered the right coordinates, he must have. He’s been practicing. He even remembers to keep the brakes off.

They end up nowhere near Ystrie. They land on a huge square, in front of a futuristic looking building. The square is full of people and aliens, talking and laughing, all going somewhere, holding books and papers in their hands. Or in their tentacles. On the sky above them he spots the Earth, shimmering lightly against the blue firmament. Then it hits him – they’re at The Luna University.

His companion is already mingling with the group of students there – a few people, one friendly looking Sylurian and one grumpy Sontaran, and he is looking around: panicked or hopeful, he’s not sure – because she may not be here yet or she may be already past her studying days and-

There she is. Just a few feet away from him, with her back turned to him. He catches a glimpse of her face – she’s so young, and fresh and so alive. His fingers are itching to touch her, to hold her, to take her with him and hide her from all the evil that is waiting for her. But he cannot do it, not now, not ever.

He grabs his companion’s hand - never taking his eyes from River – and almost drags her towards the TARDIS.

‘Hey! What happened?’ she asks him. ‘Why can’t we stay here?’

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ he says, his voice hollow and tight, his eyes still locked on River’s profile. His companion follows the line of his gaze and stares at him curiously.

‘Why not?’ she insists. ‘Is it because of that woman you’re staring at since we landed here? Who is she?’

(She’s everything.)

‘No one,’ he replies, pushing her inside his ship. ‘She’s no one. She’s just someone that I used to know. Now... Where were we? Oh yes! Ystrie!’

 

**V**. _years of smelling the clothes you left behind_

After that, she’s everywhere.

He sees her in every woman he passes. Her laughter resonates through his body, feeling him with aching longing and pain. He can smell her perfume everywhere he goes – in the TARDIS, in a small bakery in Austiya, on his jacket, in their- his bedroom.

He expects her to drop unexpectedly at any second or send him a message, an invitation for another mad adventure – anything. But nothing like that happens.

It is never her he sees, it’s not her laughter ringing in his ears, it’s not her scent clinging to him.

She’s not with him, she can’t be, she will never be with him again – he knows and understands that, but he cannot get her out of his mind.

Or maybe it’s his hearts that cannot forget? He’s not sure anymore.

_Stop haunting me_ , he screams into exploding supernovas.

_Let me go_ , he pleads during long and starless nights.

_Come back_ , he whispers with his face pressed into her pillow.

There’s no response.

 

**VI**. _I'm terrified to think you might be real_

He’s at Kirahia – a perfectly ordinary planet, nothing unusual about it. On good days it’s almost as boring as Klom. But today must be Kirahia’s bad day, because TARDIS picked up incredibly strong radiation wave coming from here. And it’s always good to check something like that, you never know what you can stumble upon. So this is exactly what he’s doing right now – checking. Okay, he’s poking and sonicing, but it’s basically the same thing.

A loud bang startles him: a very loud bang followed by a noise that sounds like growling. Angry growling. Angry growling of an incredibly angry and giant creature. He doesn’t have time to turn around, because a small but strong hand – he knows this hand so well - grabs his and someone – it’s her – shouts ‘run’ into his ear.

He wants to stop her, ask how and why, he wants to make sure she’s real, but the growling is getting louder and closer to them and her hand is warm in his – so he runs. The rest passes in blur: she’s running by his side, the monster (a two-headed bear that got hit by the powerful radiation wave and now it has giant teeth, unnatural speed and ability to jump 10 feet up), saving the universe – it feels familiar and for the first time in a long time, it feels right.

It’s only hours after she grabbed his hand – which is _his_ job! – that he has time to look at her. They slumped with their back against the TARDIS, too tired to get inside. She’s breathing heavily next to him and it occurs to him that it missed it, he missed this simple sound. He turns his head and looks at her: she’s sweaty, her hair is a disarray, there’s a smudge of dirty on her face, but he’s never seen her looking more beautiful.

‘Stop staring,’ she says with a smirk. ‘You’re looking like you’ve seen a ghost. Surely, it’s not that long since you saw me last, is it? When are we for you?’

I am too far, he thinks. Too far without you.

‘I’m... This time I’m slightly farther than you are,’ he smiles, hoping that she won’t see through the insincerity of it. Or that she won’t see the truth behind his words.

Thankfully, she only raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t ask any questions. With a sigh she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.

‘I’ll have to go soon,’ she whispers and his heart clenches at the words. She cannot go, he only just got her back, she has to stay, she-

‘Don’t go,’ the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. ‘Stay with me, at least for a while. We could go to Barcelona. The asteroid, not planet. And definitely not the city. How does it sound? Barcelona the asteroid? It has lakes with maple syrup instead of water. And doughnuts growing on trees, not to mention ridiculously polite inhabitants. It’s almost like going to Canada, but in another solar system.’

‘That’s really tempting sweetie,’ she says, with a hint of laughter in her voice, ‘but I think that the Clerics may miss me. Not to mention the guards at Stormcage. I would never want to deprive them of my presence, you know that.’

She stands up and dusts off her skirt, and he gets up as well, never taking his eyes off of her. She’s entering the coordinates on her vortex manipulator and he wishes that he could just make her stay with him. He wishes he could keep her with him forever, capture her within the walls of his hearts and keep her there until the end of time. He wishes she would never leave him.

‘Oh, don’t give me that look,’ she says with an exasperated sigh. ‘I do want to earn my pardon, you know. Besides, you won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll be back in a heartbeat, you won’t have a chance to miss me.’

‘I always miss you,’ he says.

‘Oh, look at you,’ she coos and kisses his cheek gently. ‘Getting soppy in your old age. Don’t worry dear, I’ll be back. You watch me.’

And with a press of a button she disappears. She’s gone in a cloud of grey smoke and electricity, the only thing indicating that she was there just a few seconds ago is fresh scent of ozone in the air.

This time he didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.

 

**VII.** _it's all happening again like before_

Maybe it’s his punishment. Maybe this is his price to pay for all the lives he broke.

Maybe that’s why he keeps meeting her even long after he lost her. Maybe that’s why he’s forced to watch her slip through his fingers over and over again, like a fistful of sand.

One second she’s with him, the next one she’s gone, gone, gone and he’s left alone, waiting and wondering if she is ever going to show up again.

He supposes this is how she must have felt all the time – unsure, caught between hope and despair, always waiting for more and dreading the inevitable end.

Maybe he does deserve it after all.

(For him, being with her has always been like looking at stars: staring at the fragments of past, looking at the fading echo of someone already gone, someone lost).

 

**VIII _._** _time slows, and I take your hand_

He runs into her again. Of course he does.

It’s different this time, different than their meetings used to be. They’re having a picnic. A proper, ordinary picnic. He doesn’t even know where they are – TARDIS just landed here and almost pushed him out. He nearly trips over a picnic basket – how did it even appear there? – on his way out. He huffs and takes it with him, because there is no point in fighting with Sexy when she is stubborn.

He walks out and finds himself on a vast meadow. It’s green and luscious, with colourful and exotic looking flowers everywhere. The birds are flying over his head, chirping their cheerful songs and he’s pretty sure a white and fluffy rabbit runs between the grass. It looks like something taken out of a bucolic tale. Bucolic tales may start peacefully, but they never end this way. His experience tells him that any second now, a herd of soul eating goats will attack him. Or just a herd of normal goats. Goats are evil on their own, they don’t need additional soul-sucking powers to destroy a planet.

‘Oh, you’re finally here,’ he looks to his left and she is there: sitting on a TARDIS blue blanket, dressed in a simple shepherdess’ dress – it makes her looks like she belongs here, in this idyllic place.

(There’s a sudden flashback and he sees her wearing a similar white dress, standing on another broad and green meadow. _Saved_.)

‘I thought you’ll never come.’

‘What? You got me here?’ he asks. ’How? I didn’t get any message.’

‘I sent it straight to TARDIS,’ she smiles a little. ‘I knew that you rarely pick up the phone and almost always displace your psychic paper.’

‘What? That’s not true! I always know where I place it and-,’ he stops because she laughs at him. She laughs with her head thrown back, curls cascading down her shoulders and she’s the most stunning sight he’s seen in a long time. Or maybe she’s the sight he’s been missing the most recently.

‘Yes, of course. You do know where you place your things. Now, sit down your daft idiot and let’s see what’s in this basket, okay?’

This time, there are no monsters trying to kill them. No one is chasing them. They’re just sitting on the blanket, eating sandwiches and fish fingers and custard, drinking wine (her) and grape juice (him). It’s odd, because he doesn’t feel bored. He feels... peaceful. At ease. He feels happy.

Her laughter seeps through him, feeling his body with warmth. She’s mirth and joy, she’s golden, she’s bright like thousands suns.

And she’s shining only for him.

 

**IX _._** _"back so soon?" you ask, but I smile 'cause I never left at all_

It takes him some time to realise – he _is_ getting slow in his old age - it is not punishment. It’s a chance.

It is his chance to right all the wrongs. It is his chance to give her what she deserves. To make her feel adored and important.

It’s his chance to make her happy.

There he goes, back in time.

He goes to see her in Stormcage, right after his first kiss with her and kisses the fear that it’s her last kiss with him from her lips. He helps her to get in the Cleopatra attire before his younger self arrives (although, first he helps her to get out of it. It takes some time before he lets her put it back on). He catches up with her in America and makes her take a break from hunting down the Silence. He sends her messages via psychic paper, messages so sappy that she always responds with ‘you nostalgic idiot’. He visits her during lonely and long nights in Stormcage - the nights she didn’t spend with younger him – and takes her on dates he’s never taken her before. There’s no running and chasing monsters – it’s just them and quiet moments filled with tenderness and love.

Sometimes, he sneaks into her cell – or into her apartment, depending which River he chooses to visit – and leaves her small gifts: a tube of lipstick in his favourite colour, a pair of devilishly high heels, a flower, a postcard from places he visits.

Every smile she sends his way, every joyous spark in her eyes – they give him hope and help to ease the heavy weight on his hearts.

He runs, but this time he runs towards her.

He runs to steal her from time.

 

**X.** _I hold you as we lose control_

He forgets one thing: you cannot run forever.

They’re lying in their bed, resting after tonight’s date (he took her dancing, to Paris. What he did not expect was that she’d make him watch her dance cancan. He was not complaining about this arrangement, not at all). It’s a quiet moment, she’s pressed against him, her hair tickling his chin and her breathing is getting slower and slower. Her heartbeat is slowly lulling him into sleep, every beat reminding him that she is by his side and that in this moment she’s his.

‘Sweetie,’ she murmurs sleepily against his neck. ‘Can you help me with something?’

‘Mhhhh,’ he nods.

‘It’s just... I’ve been asked on two expeditions,’ she starts. ‘They are roughly at the same time and I just can’t decide which one should I choose.’

‘River, really? You are asking me about archaeology thingies?’ he snorts quietly. ‘You know what you should do? Quit that job and travel with me. What’s the point in archaeology anyway? It’s just idle gossip and you would do so much better if you started doing something real. More serious.’

‘What? Like you?’ she smirks and pinches his side lightly. ‘That was very funny, you hippie. Now, hush and let me talk. So the first one – hey, don’t sleep! – the first one is sponsored by The Luna University. I’d go with a group of students, to Ha-Sliria. They discovered a burial site there and I’d go as a supervisor and a tutor. And the second one – are you listening? – it’s sponsored by some guy called Lux. He’s making an expedition to The Library. It’s been shut down for ages, no life signs coming out of it. One day it just shut itself down. No one knows why. So... What do you think, oh wise Time Lord?’

_No_.

This is not fair. He should not be forced to help her make that choice.

But oh, it is _so_ tempting. It could be so easy: point her in the other direction. Steer her away from the shadows, save her from the darkness that swallowed her – will swallow her, don’t let her die. He could do it.

He could, but he won’t. He’d agreed that he won’t change anything. He’d promised that he won’t rewrite anything, not even one line. There’s too much at stake and he knows it.

He understands that rewriting this point would be a disaster. Just contemplating it sends his brain into an overdrive. He can _feel_ the possibly rewritten timelines shifting and colliding, speeding towards an inevitable crash. Rewriting her death would change everything. The consequences would be ruinous. The created paradox could easily destroy a huge part of the universe. Millions would suffer and die, whole galaxies would drown in blood and pain of the innocent. No matter how much he wants, he will never be able to save her.

But there’s more: saving her from The Library would mean never meeting her. It’d mean going through his life without her. All memories of her could be wiped away from his head. A clean slate. No evidence or records of her existence.

(No nightly dates, no mysterious messages signed with ‘x’, no graffiti in the oldest cliffs in the universe, no catching her in the middle of a fall, no lipstick smudges on his shirts, no fruit-smelling hair products in his bathroom, no running together towards danger, no ‘hello sweetie’ whispered in his ear.)

His too selfish to lose her like that.

‘Sweetie? What do you think?’ she asks again, her face pressed into his shoulder.

His words taste like acid and they burn his hearts.

‘The Library. I think you should go to The Library.’


End file.
